


Pushing Forward

by snarkasaurus



Series: Spark of Warmth [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Broken Bones, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, endless apologies, punnish book titles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkasaurus/pseuds/snarkasaurus
Summary: It shouldn't take a broken arm to make two people talk, and yet here they are.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Spark of Warmth [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/39800
Comments: 17
Kudos: 234





	Pushing Forward

**Author's Note:**

> This is... both the end and not the end. The series can end here. It wouldn't kill anything! But there's some lose ends that I'd like to tie up that honestly, I don't thinks this addresses the way I'd like. 
> 
> However. 
> 
> You have all been so incredibly patient while I battled grad school, brain weasels, and a cadre of other word-eating, story-stalling monsters in my life. The fact that this series still gets kudos nearly every day kept me going. Fandom kept me going, the way it has since I discovered it literally half my life ago (oh man. half my life. o_o ). Because of this, I wanted to give you this, a way to end the story. Will I be able to write the last bit that I want? I...don't know. I hope so, but I don't know. So until I do, consider THIS the end. I'm sorry it's not necessarily what you wanted or even what I'd planned entirely, but it is an end. 
> 
> And thank you again for your patience and encouragement. I hope this satisfies you, at least a little bit.
> 
> And as ever, the absolute biggest thanks to Vaidah for keeping me going and looking this over!! ♥

Derek strained the pasta he was making for dinner and tossed it into the pan of sauce he’d made while the pasta was cooking. He tried to keep his focus on what he was doing, but he found that he couldn’t quite keep from drawing inward, focusing on that warm ball of Stiles that was in his chest. He didn’t know how he’d missed it, the strength of the presence inside of him and the amount he could learn from that bond. 

“Derek?” Stiles asked from the kitchen table where Derek had parked him. 

“Hmm?” Derek carefully served up two platefuls of the meal and carried them to the table. Drinks and silverware were already there, so he was able to sit down right away, something for which he was grateful. It was harder to be any great distance from Stiles right now. Within that bright warmth was still a deep throb of pain, and Derek wanted to growl, curl around his mate, and protect him from what was hurting. It wouldn’t work that way, so he resisted the urge the best he could, but all he could really do was be close. 

Stiles picked up his fork and slowly, awkwardly, worked on feeding himself with an unfamiliar hand. “Augh, this is going to suck.” He was quiet for a moment, concentrating on his movements, and then said, “you were...earlier, when we were napping. I woke up before you, and you were...uh. Whimpering? In your sleep?” 

Derek felt his cheeks heat a little and he ducked his head, focusing on his meal for just a second. Whimpering in his sleep. Wonderful. Still, of all the things he could have been doing, that was not as embarrassing as some things could have been. “I was...dreaming. Of my mother,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t anything bad, just.” He stopped, trying to figure out how to phrase what he was feeling and thinking. “I miss her, so that was part of it. But she was saying some things that. Some things that hurt and were confusing. So I guess that meant whimpering in my sleep.” He grimaced a little. “Sorry.”

Stiles shook his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Derek. It didn’t wake me or bother me. I was...just worried?” The pause before he confessed his worry made Derek’s heart clench. “I don’t want you to hurt any more than you apparently want me to hurt, so I was just. Uh. Hoping you weren’t hurt.” He flushed and ducked his head. Derek didn’t miss the bright pulse of some unidentifiable something that flared through the bond that he was rapidly becoming more and more aware of. 

“It’s okay. I...well, it stung, but it didn’t hurt.” Derek took a few moments to push some of the pasta onto his fork with his garlic bread and organize his thoughts at the same time. This wasn’t going to be easy. “I...said this already. Sort of. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I treated you without talking to you—no, let me,” he interrupted himself when Stiles opened his mouth. “I need to say this. I did a lot of things wrong because I was an idiot and didn’t think. I’m not taking all of the blame. We both got ourselves into this position. But I _am_ sorry that I put us here with what I did.” 

Stiles studied him for a long moment. “I’m sorry, too.” he glanced down at his immobile hand and sighed. “We both fucked up, yes, but I think I need to take more of this on me. I acted like a child and didn’t take into account at all how you have to be feeling, what you must be going through. This relationship...this thing we have between us isn’t what you expected it to be any more than it’s what I expected. It’s unfair of me to demand from you what I was prepared to have with Laura. ” He let out a sigh. “I meant what I said when we were upstairs. I want to start again. I know we can’t erase the last few months, but I want to see if we can put ourselves on the right path. Is that...is that okay?” 

Derek nodded before Stiles even finished talking, and felt his cheeks heat at this betrayal of his eagerness. “You’re not...mad at me for stopping us?” 

“What, earlier? No…the kisses were amazing and I...I would definitely like to...uh.” and now Stiles blushed, and Derek could smell the flair of his arousal and want. “Yeah. But you were right. I think, at least for a little while, kisses might be our best choice. I mean… I don’t...actually know you?” and he shifted awkwardly in his chair, a movement that Derek was already starting to identify as his anxious fidget. 

But those words reminded him of his mother and of his dream and of everything else. Suddenly, food didn’t sound so good. Derek carefully put down his fork and picked up his glass, sipping some water while he tried to figure out what he could say that wouldn’t be the worst thing imaginable. 

Stiles beat him to it. “You said you dreamed about your mom,” he blurted, not looking at Derek. “Was it. I mean, you were whimpering, so. Uh. I don’t… Was it a good dream?” 

Derek could feel the pulse of concern through their bond, and was touched in a way he hadn’t expected. “It wasn’t bad, exactly,” he admitted. He honestly wasn’t sure how to describe the way the dream had made him feel, or even really what the dream was about without implying things he didn’t want to imply. “It was more that…” he frowned and looked up. “Have you ever dreamed about your mother in some way so sharp and defined that it felt real, like you were having a real conversation with her and she was trying to tell you something important?” He watched Stiles’ face, looking for what he didn’t know, but trying to figure out how to move forward. 

He felt the startled confusion more than he saw it on his mate’s face, but he couldn’t miss the widening of Stiles’ eyes no matter how unfamiliar Stiles’ face seemed to him right now. “I have,” Stiles said slowly. “I had one a few weeks after Laura.” He stopped abruptly and took a deep breath. “Yes, I have. Was this like that?” 

Derek felt some of the stress leech out of his shoulders. He wasn’t going to sound completely insane. “She was reading to me from a book about mate bonds and why we have them.” 

Stiles stopped moving, all of his focus now on Derek. “Mate bonds?” he repeated faintly. 

“Yeah,” Derek said, unable to look away from Stiles. “Yeah. First about how they need to be cared for so they can reach their full potential of strength and then how a bond with a human is stronger than a bond between two wolves.” He felt something that he couldn’t define bubbling through the bond, but it was weirdly muted. Not like Stiles was trying to stifle it, he realized, but because his own swirl of emotions, of frustration, curiosity, and hope, was overwhelming it. He wondered what that felt like to Stiles and flushed a little. 

“I knew that much,” Stiles said slowly. “Or...well, more accurately, I guessed that. Mom gave me clues, hints to things, but she died before she told me more.” He stared thoughtfully at Derek. “Did she tell you anything else? Would you recognize that book in the library here?”

Derek startled. He hadn’t thought about the book possibly being here. That...would make sense. “We can go check,” he said, and then when Stiles made a move to get up, “after we’re done eating. I’m hungry and you should probably eat, too.” 

Stiles looked at him for a moment, and Derek tensed, wondering if he’d fucked up, and then Stiles gave him a rueful smile. “You’re right. I’m just eager. It sounds like your mother gave you reasons for why we did this, why it would have been Laura, and I guess I just want to know what it is.” 

Derek nodded as he swirled his food around his plate a little. He felt like he should say something, maybe try and explain… “I don’t regret it,” he blurted, and then flushed. “Marrying you. Even with. Uh. Even with the last three months being not good.” He winced. “That isn’t what I meant. That came out wrong.” 

Stiles shook his head. “No, I think I know what you mean. It’s. You.” He stopped and Derek saw a flash of frustration roll across his face as well as felt it through their bond. Why was he so much more aware of their bond right now? He watched Stiles’ face as the other man appeared to hunt for words. “I don’t regret our marriage, either,” he said slowly. “I’ve been...I’ve been a spoiled shit the last few months, and I’m sorry. No, don’t say that I haven’t,” he said, stopping Derek who had opened his mouth to do just that. “You may not have gone about treating me the way I thought I would be treated, but you didn’t treat me badly, and I absolutely should have done a better job of telling you what bothered me instead of throwing a fit like a spoiled child. I fucked up, Derek, and I’m...I’m sorry.” 

Derek sighed. “I accept your apology. I feel like I owe you one, too. I fucked up plenty myself. I shouldn’t have let you get away with it without actually talking about it. I should have talked to _you_ instead of everyone else. I should have pushed, actually tried to see things from your perspective. This isn’t all your fault alone. We both made a mess of this.” 

Stiles carefully took another bite of pasta and thought. “We did. We already agreed that we were going to do our best to start again. I think we have a better chance of doing that if we both acknowledge where we went wrong and what we actually meant by it. We’ve done part of that…” 

Derek snorted a little. “What I meant to do was to treat you like a person. Like someone who could think for themselves. I never wanted you to think like you were second to me in any way.” 

Stiles studied his face while he chewed. “Can you tell me why you treated me like I was inferior in the council chamber?” he asked. “Because I felt very much like I was second to you.” 

Derek winced, but he was going to be honest. That was the only way forward. “I treated you like that because it’s what I knew, but it was also the only way to keep you safe. The alphas are...you know Peter. You saw their contempt. I thought if I showed you the same kind of love and awe I could feel building within me already, they would see you as a target. I didn’t want that for you before you had to deal with it.” Derek paused, frowning. “Before you were ready to deal with it, I mean. You’ll face it eventually, but I didn’t want you to have to before you were ready.” 

Stiles tried to process all of that, but he got stuck on “love and awe.” Derek could see it in his face. “Love? You...love?” 

Derek set down his fork and didn’t look away from Stiles. This was too important not to say properly and he had to make sure Stiles understood. “I haven’t had a chance to fall in love with you, the way...not the way I want. I could feel something like that emotion starting to build that day, and it’s stayed this whole time. It’s one of the reasons why I have tried so hard to figure out how I can make things better, fix what we have. I want this to be a relationship, a real one. Not just something that we put on for show.” 

Stiles put down his own fork, studying Derek. He didn’t say anything, but Derek could see all kinds of thoughts flickering in those eyes while he processed what Derek had said. Eventually, Stiles said, “I’ve really been an idiot. I made this a lot worse than it had to be, didn’t I?” 

Derek didn’t try and negate that because they both knew it was true. Stiles _had_ made things worse by moving into his own room, ignoring Derek, and basically doing everything he could to keep them apart. “What matters is we try going forward,” Derek said firmly. 

“Right. We’re big boys. We can use our words.” Stiles’ tone was wry, but Derek could hear the slight pounding of Stiles’ heart. Hopefully things went better this time. “So you treated me like that for my safety. I can understand that. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to?” 

“I should have,” Derek agreed. “I should have made sure you knew everything that would happen and what I was going to do. I didn’t because I didn’t think I needed to. Like I told you that day, I didn’t think it made a difference what they thought as long as we knew the truth. In some ways, I still don’t understand—no, let me finish!” He waited for Stiles to sit back. “In some ways, I still don’t understand why it was so necessary for them to know that day what we thought when a slow change would be a lot easier to affect and encourage. Abrupt and sudden change is often rejected and resisted. However, I should have thought about how you would feel and I didn’t. You’re right. I should have told you. And that’s the part I’m sorry for.”

~*~

Stiles slowly ate his dinner, considering the things Derek had said to him. It was more than he deserved in a lot of ways. The apologies, the forgiveness for his own assholeishness, the explanations...all of these seemed like way more than he deserved as Derek explained more and more. Derek had made mistakes, sure; who wouldn’t when they were married to someone that they may have known only peripherally for years and then suddenly been told they had to get married, and then that person did nothing but compare you to your dead older sister.

But Stiles had made mistakes, too. From where he was sitting right now, he’d made worse ones. He _hadn’t_ given Derek a chance to explain or even acknowledged that there could be another explanation. Communication was something he tried to pride himself on. He talked enough. Stiles was beginning to realize, though, that just because he talked didn’t mean he communicated. And he sure as hell didn’t listen. “You’re right,” he said, only belatedly realizing it was several minutes after Derek had last spoken. “Sorry. I was thinking. You’re right. Slower would be better in this, and I just...didn’t even think about that or give you a chance or anything. I fucked up in that. I’m sorry.” 

Derek nodded his head and swallowed his mouthful of food. “I appreciate the apology, but I think at this point, we can both acknowledge that we both fucked up, we’re both sorry, and we both forgive each other?” This last was said with a hopeful tone that made Stiles both cringe and warm. That he’d made Derek so unsure when he was the one acting like a petty brat was definitely not the kind of person he ever wanted to be. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I forgive you.” 

The smile that Derek gave him made Stiles’ breath hitch. He’d seen it once before, this warm, caring expression that looked like he felt like Stiles was the world. It made him want to see that smile again and again. Realize he could have been seeing it for months. The warm ball in his chest that went with it, that spark that was Derek, gave off a radiant energy that suffused Stiles’ whole body. 

Wow, he was getting sappy. 

“While we could sit here and go back and forth, enumerating the ways we’ve fucked up and we want to do better, I think it’s better to just press on for now,” Derek said quietly. “If individual things are bothering you, we can talk about them?” He paused, looking at Stiles, who shook his head. Stiles knew where most of the fault in this lay now, and he wasn’t about to accuse Derek of things that were misunderstandings on Stiles’ part. There were probably some things that they would need to actually talk out and make sure they knew where each other stood, but he was okay right now. 

Derek smiled a small, warm smile at Stiles, which made his heart flutter a little. “I think we need to check out that book and figure out what our mothers were up to. I think that might tell us more than anything that we need to talk about and which direction we need to go. Just based on that dream, I feel like there’s a lot of pieces that we’re missing.” 

“If you’re sure that book exists?” Stiles asked. He didn’t doubt that there was more to that dream than just Derek’s subconscious being imaginative. He’d lived in this town for too long to think otherwise. He was just wary at this point. 

Derek acknowledged the possibility with a nod of his head, for which Stiles was grateful. It wasn’t until after the words left his mouth that he realized they could be construed as doubting and rude. “I think it does. I honestly think I remember that particular book on my mom’s desk before? It looked familiar at least. It should be in the library.” 

It didn’t take them long to finish eating. Derek wouldn’t let Stiles help with the dishes—“You have a cast on your arm and you just broke that bone. At least give it a week before you try and do more than you should.”—and instead sent him into the library to start looking for likely books. 

“I have no idea what I’m looking for, though!” Stiles protested with a frown. “You know what the book looks like.” 

“I know what _that_ book looks like. Look for other books that you think could be helpful.” Derek gave him a small smile. “Look for things that might help me understand what you were planning with Laura, maybe?” 

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. Derek really was going to try. He hadn’t doubted it, exactly. It was more that he wasn’t sure he had fully believed it. He knew how much he had fucked up, and he wasn’t entirely sure he really deserved the second chance that he was apparently going to be given. Derek wasn’t innocent, and Stiles wasn’t taking all the blame, but Stiles knew damned well that his actions had blown the whole thing significantly out of proportion. 

As Stiles walked down the hall toward the library, he thought about that. His reaction was way out of proportion for the situation, absolutely. He could state that with absolute honesty (and a significant amount of shame, but he was going to have to move past that if any of this was going to work). What seemed weird to him was that there was a certain flavor to his behavior that he didn’t completely recognize as his own. He’d just let himself believe that he was reacting to the new situation he was living in, the way everything had changed, the way his world wasn’t _right_ anymore. Now he was beginning to wonder how much of that was true. He didn’t know what else it could have been, but maybe he was reacting more to that warm spark in his chest than he thought? 

Stiles considered that as he opened the door to the library and wandered over to the shelves. As he read titles slowly, he thought about what it meant to have the bond with his werewolf mate. He’d figured it was just a connection that made people pay more attention to derek, almost like a coronation. Now, with the dream of Derek’s mother and the way derek had reacted to the bond, Stiles was realizing it was something more, something beyond what he’d thought could happen. 

His eye caught on a title and he focused his attention on what he was doing. “ _Magic For Beginners_? Really?” Stiles pulled it off the shelf and flipped through it, realizing it wasn’t about doing magic spells like he’d half thought, but was, instead, learning how to focus one’s innate abilities and settle into one’s core self enough that personal power could be used.

He set that one on a side table and went back to perusing titles. He nodded in consideration at _Moon Medicine: Post Transformation Wound Care, Happy Howling: A Beginners Guide to Using Your Diaphragm,_ and _Pack Dynamics for the Practical Prowler_ ; snorted with laughter at _Chicken’s Coop for the Soup_ ; and contemplated the apparent appropriation of such popular novels of _Eat Prey, Love_ and _Of Mice and Men: How to Hunt Effectively in an Urban Environment_.

There were serious ones, too, like the magic one he’d already pulled, and others that seemed to cover the more esoteric pieces of magic in the world. Books from Asia, Africa, Europe, and South America were slotted into the shelves by no direct cataloging pattern Stiles could see. He grumbled and stretched up on his toes, trying to reach a likely looking book. He couldn’t quite reach it. Damn. He looked around and saw a step stool in front of another shelf. Perfect! 

He hurried over to the stool and pushed it toward the shelf he was investigating with his foot. He knew better than to try and pick it up, at least. He got it where he wanted and stood on it, reaching for the book. It was a lot heavier than he’d expected and Stiles bobbled badly, trying to keep from dropping it while fighting his instinct to grab it with the hand of his broken arm. He wobbled on the stool, and for one panicked moment, he thought he was going to fall onto his injured arm again. 

And then there was a warm arm around his waist bracing him back against a solid body, and the book was being taken from his hand. “Easy, Stiles,” Derek murmured in his ear, holding tight. “It’s not worth getting hurt worse. I’d have gotten it for you.” 

He wasn’t letting go. Stiles took in a shaky breath; shaky not from his near fall but because being held against Derek felt so _good_. Why had he deprived himself of this? Oh yeah. He was an obtuse moron. “I didn’t expect the book to be so heavy,” he admitted. 

Derek didn’t answer. He just nuzzled gently at the back of Stiles’ neck, snuffling softly. It tickled. There were warm lips pressing against his back through the fabric of his tee shirt and the sensation made Stiles sigh softly. “Stiles?” 

“I’m okay,” he said, carefully turning in Derek’s arm. He was careful to lift his cast up and over Derek’s head so that he didn’t jar the bone, bringing it down to rest on one broad shoulder. He looked down at Derek who was watching him with a look Stiles couldn’t quite read. His other hand came up to the other shoulder and Derek’s other arm (the book thankfully set on the nearby table) curled around Stiles. They stood there like that for a moment, Derek looking up at Stiles, Stiles leaning slightly against Derek and looking down. Stiles couldn’t have identified what passed between them in that moment. There was too much. He did know that by the time he realized Derek was carefully lifting him down from the foot stool so that they were more even, he felt calmer and more settled than he had in months. Than he had even after the conversation they just had at dinner. How interesting. And wonderful. And lots of other things. 

“Did you find anything interesting?” Derek asked, his voice husky as though he were holding back some emotion. Stiles had a brief moment of sadness that Derek hadn’t kissed him, but he quickly realized it was for the same reason he hadn’t kissed Derek: that moment was too intimate, too emotional. What an interesting thought. 

“A few,” he said, nodding toward the pile on the table by the couch. “Some to help with explaining what Laura and I were up to and some that looked like they might be able to explain the bond thing.” He grinned a little and nodded toward one of the novels, _Eat Prey, Love_. “And one or two of the more hilarious titles I found.”

Derek saw that one and snickered. “It’s kind of a family tradition to find werewolf stories, whether they’re actually about real werewolves or not. I think it started as a joke, and then grew.” 

“I approve.” Stiles realized his fingers were gently stroking through the hair at the nape of Derek’s neck. “Is...this okay?” 

Derek’s face didn’t shift, but Stiles still felt a small flair of pleasure and pain mixed together. He supposed that made sense; he was the one that had withdrawn contact, not Derek. Derek was now dealing with being touched by someone he’d gotten used to not touching. And that he asked… 

Something of what he was thinking must have shown on his face, or maybe Derek just felt emotions through the bond the same way Stiles did, because suddenly there was a werewolf nuzzling at his throat, holding him close. Closer than close, because he found himself snuggled tight against Derek’s broad chest, tight and snug. Stiles melted into the embrace and the nuzzling, pressing his own face into Derek’s neck and tightening his arms. It felt...like home. 

Stiles didn’t know how long they stood like that. He didn’t care. He did know that something in him shifted and settled and stopped feeling like a constant aching bruise deep in his chest. He took a shaky breath. This was what it was supposed to be, wasn’t it? This is what it was supposed to feel like. 

Derek eventually lifted his head and looked at Stiles who raised his own head at the same time. Stiles was surprised to see Derek’s eyes a little bright, his eyelashes looking a little spidery. Had there been tears? He went to move his hand to gently wipe away the damp, and managed to stop himself before he smacked Derek in the head with his cast. He carefully switched to his other hand, and then, before he could really stop and think, he kissed his mate. 

There were the fireworks he’d always dreamt of. Derek’s mouth opened to his and before Stiles knew it, they were even more tightly wrapped together, kissing each other deeply, hungrily, with all the desperate, thwarted passion and desire they’d both felt for the last three months. Stiles didn’t know where he ended and Derek began. He only knew that these kisses, tongue and teeth and passion and need, the hands on his back and hair, the fiery ball of want and need blooming in his chest that was as much Derek as it was his. 

And then he was being lifted. Stiles instinctively wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist as he was carried out of the library and toward the stairs. He broke away far enough to pant for much needed breath and to see Derek’s face. There was only lust and want visible, but his eyes were glowing red. Almost literally glowing. It was surreal. Everything else about him still looked human, and when Stiles shifted to see Derek’s face, he stopped moving. 

“I…” Derek started to say, but Stiles stopped him with a swift kiss. 

“Take me to bed, Derek. Take me to _our_ bed.”

~*~

Derek looked down at his mate sleeping next to him and felt some more of the fragments of himself settle into place. He didn’t know if it was going to stay this easy, and he suspected that it wouldn’t. Stiles was Stiles and he was himself, and there was bound to be some struggle. He kind of thought that it would go much more easily, though. There was much less to fight about when they actually talked to each other, after all.

He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ cheekbone, smirking when Stiles mumbled something unintelligible and burrowed even further under the covers and into the pillow. He was out for a little while it looked like while Derek knew he was awake. He considered just poking at his phone until he was tired, but he was really curious about that book. And he didn’t think Stiles would mind… 

He slid out of bed, grabbing for a pair of pajama pants to throw on, and padded down to the library to grab the books and pull a few of his own to add to the stack. He was just finishing gathering everything together when Peter wandered in. 

“Well, well. Finally made things better with your mate?” Peter asked, settling into his favorite armchair. 

Derek instinctively bristled. He didn’t know why, but something in the question made his metaphorical hackles rise. He tried not to let it show, though. “Well, after you goaded him into breaking his hand, I figured it was time.” 

Peter looked amused. “I didn’t actually expect him to commit personal violence, nephew. He needed to work through what he was feeling, so I encouraged him to actually talk about it. He punched the wall all on his own before I could stop him.” 

Something about that still made Derek feel very unsettled and unsure, but he chose to accept it at face value for now. “Is there something that you know is wrong or were you just basing it on the way the house has felt?”

Peter gave him an odd look that Derek couldn’t quite read. “That’s an interesting way of putting it. It’s been very clear that things were not right between the two of you, Derek. Even if I could have predicted Stiles would want his own room—and I have to admit I did count it as a possibility—I wouldn’t have thought you two would break like this. However, it’s relatively clear that there were problems, even if you hadn’t been brooding around like Dracula and Stiles hadn’t been doing his best Casper impression.” 

Digesting those comparisons took some time, if only because they weren’t the sort he would have ever expected from his uncle. “Dracula and Casper,” he finally said. He turned back to the stack he was compiling. This conversation needed to end. It was too odd.

“Ghosting around this place and lurking in the shadows. It seemed apt. Take care of your mate, Derek. You two need each other, and I suspect there are bigger changes on the horizon because of your relationship than either of you ever thought could happen.” Derek turned around just in time to see Peter bow slightly to him and leave the library. 

He watched the empty doorway for a long time, trying to figure out what his uncle might have meant. Peter was far too fond of being cryptic and strange. He eventually gave up, thinking of his mate, warm and sleepy and still needing comfort and pain draining, upstairs in his… _their_ bed. It was their bed, and he’d thought of it as such since their first night together. He wondered if Stiles knew he’d been sleeping on the floor. 

Derek shook his head, added the one book that had started this all to his pile, and picked up the whole thing, heading back upstairs. There were other things to think about right now. That was not on the list for at least the next day or two. 

When he made it back upstairs, he set the stack of books on his nightstand and went to get a glass of water; he paused before he left the kitchen, and went back to get another and a couple of snacks. He thought that being prepared in case Stiles woke up would be a good idea. He gathered everything onto a tray and carried that upstairs, sliding it onto the end of the bed so that he could move the water glasses without dropping everything, and then carefully slid into bed himself. 

He was settled against the headboard with a pillow on his lap and a book open before Stiles started moving. Derek reached over automatically and stroked his shoulder, gently pulling away some of the pain that he knew Stiles had to be feeling. That was apparently what made his mate move around, because Stiles settled back into sleep quickly. 

Derek watched him for a long moment, replaying everything that had happened over the last couple of days. There was more to their bond than he’d expected, and he was very sad that he’d lost so many months of learning about them with Stiles. He’d fucked up by not pushing back, by not trying to figure out what was going on, by not admitting to his own error in the process. He was terrible at communicating how he felt about things and always had been. This time, that had bitten him hard. His heart hurt for how much he’d lost. 

But...here Stiles was, sprawled out in bed next to him, and by the feel of that warmth in his chest that was most definitely his mate, Stiles was happy. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone—see the previously mentioned “terrible at communicating his feelings”—but he’d tracked that spark almost obsessively. It had faded into the background for the most part, but he always kept a tab on it, hoping to find a time when he could get something from Stiles and feel...something. Feel better? Feel warmer? Feel...just something. He’d started to register that Stiles always felt sad, even when asleep. He hadn’t known how to do anything to fix it, same as he hadn’t known how to fix anything else about their relationship, so he’d just kept a note of it. Some nights, it was stronger, other nights it was just a faint throb. 

It was gone now. There was no sadness in that bond that he could currently feel. That made Derek’s own heart ache with happiness. He kept stroking Stiles’ shoulder, hoping he could learn something from this quiet moment, as much as he’d learned from the last 24 hours. 

It took him a long moment to realize Stiles was watching him through sleepy slitted eyes. “Hi,” he said quietly, stopping his petting. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“You didn’t,” Stiles said, his voice a little rough. Derek realized it wasn’t entirely from sleep and felt a little surge of possessive pleasure. One that Stiles felt, Derek realized, if he could judge the slight smirk at the corner of Stiles’ mouth. “Need to pee.” 

Derek let Stiles work his way out of bed, starting with pleased surprise when Stiles swooped in and kissed him before he left the bed. The warmth that suffused his chest was mostly his own this time. 

He’d picked up the book that had started this and had it open in his lap by the time Stiles’ came back, thumbing through to find the passage he was looking for. He paused, watching as Stiles carefully slid back under the covers, settling himself upright against the headboard, too. “I’ve got a glass of water for you, and some things to eat,” he offered. 

“Oh, the water, please, thank you,” Stiles said, reaching for the glass as Derek brought it off the side table. He absolutely did not watch the movement of Stiles throat as his mate swallowed, but only because he had to stay focused and Stiles _was_ injured. Derek knew if he’d watched, he’d have figured out a way to coax Stiles to do something decidedly unacademic. 

“Can I...lean against you?” Stiles asked, finishing drinking and setting the glass on his own nightstand. He waited for Derek’s nod before snuggling up against Derek’s shoulder to peer down at the book. “Is this the one from your dream?” 

“Yeah,” Derek said, resuming flipping through the pages. He was close, he thought. “I figured it made the most sense to start there.” He felt Stiles’ nod against his shoulder. “I almost missed the book as I was going over the shelf, even though I knew what I was looking for. I think that’s why it’s been ignored for so long.” 

Stiles hummed. “It is unprepossessing. Doesn’t even have any fancy lettering or anything. Wait!” Stiles stopped Derek’s hand. “There. That looks relevant.” 

Derek looked more closely at the page Stiles was pointing at. It wasn’t the section his mother had quoted at him in his dream, but Stiles was right. It did seem relevant. He read it out loud, even though he was sure Stiles was capable of reading, and probably faster than he was. Still, it made him feel better. 

“One of the important parts about adding humans to packs relates to the strength the wolves take from them. Some of that is mental: knowing they need to protect their human packmates pushes the wolves to fight harder, faster, and better than they might normally. Some of it is physical: pack bonds are not completely dissimilar to the mate bond, and because humans require none of the magic for themselves, all of it can be poured into the wolves and the pack strength. This gives wolves not only more control during the full moon and over the rest of the month, but also when it comes to battling. Wolves will heal more quickly, move faster, and be able to respond more quickly. 

“There does not seem to be a limit to the benefit humans give to the pack, though it is by no means exponential. Instead, it seems to relate more to the human’s innate strength of character and will, and something undefinable that has yet, as of the writing of this text, to be identified. Humans will always benefit a pack, but some will benefit the pack more than others. There does not seem to be a way to tell who will benefit a pack more, other than someone has to be the kind of person more willing to work with others rather than work on their own. This is the basics of pack integration and harmony, so this stipulation is not unexpected. 

“Once humans are fully integrated into the pack, either through proximity or mating with other members of the pack, their power will not be lost. Even if the human dies, the power is absorbed into the pack instead of being lost. The belief is that because the bond already exists, there is a place for the power to go upon death, so it follows that natural link. This is similar to the way power shifts with wolves that pass within a pack. Humans do not become supernatural, but they will have longer life spans and other related benefits to being part of a wolf pack.” 

There was a long silence as they both digested that information. “I had no idea,” Derek finally said, turning to look at Stiles. “We had human members, but they were all family. I never realized that they amplified the pack.” 

“I don’t think Laura knew, either,” Stiles said slowly. “Or if she did, she never let on. I had no idea this was a thing.” He ran his fingers lightly down the page. “Your mother knew, though. And mine. I’d bet almost anything on it.” 

Derek couldn’t fault that. Based on what he’d dreamed and what he knew in general about the agreement between Stiles’ family and his own, it seemed likely. “This does mean that we can make your dad part of the pack,” he said quietly. “It’ll help him live longer. If that’s something you and he wanted to do.” 

Stiles’ only response was to press his lips to Derek’s bare shoulder for a long moment, but Derek could feel the flare of hope, the pleasure at the suggestion, and a strengthening of something that he was beginning to think was the start of love through their bond. “I’ll talk to him,” Stiles said eventually. “Do you...do you think the part relating to us is in this area of the text?” It was a refocusing of their conversation, moving away from the feels Stiles was obviously having, but Derek let him have it. 

Derek started slowly turning pages until he found it. It was right there, clear as day, the exact same words his mother had spoken in his dream. 

“Alphas are always stronger when fully bonded to a mate. These take some time to fully settle in and take hold, though bonds are technically complete upon biting during consummation. The fledgling bond needs to be nurtured and cared for, or the alpha pair will never achieve its full potential. They will be stronger than they would alone, but nowhere near the potential strength achievable. Nurtured bonds will be strongest if the pair cares for them and if there is genuine feeling between the two. This does not need to be love, but it should be respect at the very least. 

“One of the strongest mating bonds an alpha can form is with a human. There are many reasons for this seemingly ridiculous claim. The most important reason is because all the power from the bond naturally goes to the werewolf of the pair. The human does not require any of the power to sustain themselves in any way, so their share is not needed and goes to their mate. Additionally, there is a bridge formed between two worlds when an alpha mates with a human. Packs with were/human pairs in charge will often be stronger, tighter knit, and better integrated than those with were only pairings. The strength of the pack feeds the alpha, as always, and makes them stronger. Finally, of the biggest reasons for such a match, while a much rarer combination, there are some humans who have an amplifying effect on the bond with their mate. The humans that create this effect will always have were blood in their past, at least two generations back. At this time, it is not known why the effect exists, or why the remove from were blood must be no less than two. There is, however, unmistakably an exponentially larger power increase for the alpha half of the mated pairing.” 

Stiles didn’t say anything. Derek wondered if he was just digesting what he thought or if there was something else happening. It turned out to be just digesting because about the time he started getting twitchy and antsy, Stiles murmured, “I’m an amplifier. I have to be.” 

Since that was the same conclusion Derek had come to, he nodded. “Yeah, I think so. There’s no other reasonable way I should have been able to pull the swelling from your wrist like that if you weren’t. You have to be an amplifier.” 

“Well. Isn’t that just an interesting bit of knowledge,” Stiles muttered. He rested his cheek against Derek’s shoulder. “But...Derek, do you think we’ve—” He stopped abruptly, and pressed his face a little more firmly against Derek’s shoulder. 

Derek thought he knew what Stiles was going to say. “Do I think we’ve damaged our bond? I don’t, actually, even if we haven’t been caring for it the way we probably should have.” He felt his mate shift uncomfortably next to him and made a split second decision. He shifted his weight more fully back against the headboard, lifted his arm, and pulled Stiles gently but firmly against his side. Stiles immediately nestled his head in the hollow between shoulder and pectoral, curling against Derek’s body like he was meant to be there. _I’m pretty sure he is,_ Derek thought to himself. He gently stroked Stiles’ body, keeping up a very low level of pain suck, just to make sure Stiles didn’t hurt or push himself unnecessarily farther than he was capable of. 

“I know exactly what you feel like through the bond,” Derek started slowly and quietly. “I know your emotions and what you feel like when you’re frustrated with Scott versus your father. I know what it feels like when you’re excited about something you’ve completed for school. I know how to hold on to that warmth for myself when I’m struggling. I didn’t purposely hunt for you. You live in my chest, though. This. This spark of warmth that I couldn’t escape if I wanted to.” 

Stiles was very quiet while Derek spoke, but Derek thought it was because Stiles was absorbing every syllable and nuance of his words. There were several moments between when he stopped speaking and when Stiles started. “I know what you feel like, too, though I don’t know if I can identify your emotions as well as you can mine. I couldn’t seem to avoid your presence, even when I was angry with you. You were right there, in my way.” 

Derek felt that same warm spark pulse with something indefinable and new. It made his heart ache. “In a good way?” he asked, his voice gone a little low and raspy. “I hope?” 

Stiles smiled; Derek could feel the movement of his cheek against Derek’s chest. “Everything and everyone was telling me that I was being an asshole, but I’m a stubborn shithead. Yeah, it was in a good way, Derek. You’re my mate, and I.” He stopped abruptly, swallowing whatever he was about to say, but Derek didn’t mind. He knew what Stiles meant, and whatever had been about to slip out was out of place and not something they were ready for. They had a lot of work to do before they were ready for that. 

He did feel like he had one last apology to make, though. “Stiles, I’m sorry that I never treated you the way you wanted to be treated. I treated you the way I knew and assumed that it would be enough. You’d spent so much time with Laura that I thought you knew things that I guess you didn’t. It’s no excuse, though. I knew how to speak and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t really give you much to go on to lead you to believe otherwise,” Stiles admitted softly. “I’ve already told you that you’re forgiven, as long as I am.” 

“I thought this specific thing needed a direct apology,” Derek said. And then he yelped when his ribs were pinched. Hard. 

“Enough,” Stiles said, soothing the pinch with a stroke of his fingers. “You apologized for everything else, and even this, in your way. It’s fine. It will be fine. I was an asshole, you were an idiot, we’re both sorry. We agreed on that, right?” Derek could only nod, half afraid of getting pinched again. “I appreciate you feeling like I need to hear that particular apology,” and Derek closed his eyes to savor the feel of warm lips against his skin. “I just think we’ve apologized all the apologies we can or should. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Derek said. He couldn’t fault Stiles for that. If they didn’t call an end to it, they’d probably spend the next week apologizing to each other for the things they’d done. “Back to your question, though, I don’t think we’ve done anything to damage the bond. I was keeping track of it and I think you were, too. I think damage requires active determination to work against it or to fight it.” 

“What makes you think that?” Stiles asked. 

“I could take away the swelling.” 

“...Huh.” Stiles was twiddling his fingers against Derek’s stomach in an almost absent gesture. Derek was pretty sure Stiles didn’t even know he was doing it, but he wasn’t about to stop it. It felt good. Comforting in a way. “I think you have to be right. Even with my apparent extra abilities, that shouldn’t be possible unless the bond were healthy.” 

Derek nodded and turned another page in the book on his lap, looking for more information. “We may have slowed it down, but I don’t think we’ve hindered anything.” 

Before either of them could say anything or read anything further, they heard the doorbell ring throughout the house. Both of them startled, looking at each other in confusion. “Who would come up here and ring the doorbell?” Stiles asked, confused. 

“I think…” Derek started, but before he could finish that thought, Peter’s voice floated up the stairs. 

“Derek, Stiles, I think you’re wanted downstairs.” 

Stiles looked at Derek in confusion. “Who…” 

Derek, who was listening to the voices, smirked a little, almost resigned. “Our pack has come over.” 

“Oh!” And then Stiles was scrambling out of bed, reaching for his discarded clothing. He forgot the cast on his arm, though, and whumped it against the bed in his haste. His yelp and his flare of pain through their bond had Derek across the bed and crouching in front of Stiles before he could even thing. 

“Easy,” Derek said quietly, placing one hand on Stiles bicep to draw away the pain, and the other curling around his neck. “There’s no rush, baby, no reason to hurt yourself. It’s okay…” He could feel the throb of pain easing, and looked up at Stiles’ face. “...what?” 

“You called me baby,” Stiles said. His voice was only a little strained by pain now. “That’s the first time you’ve done it.” 

Derek blinked, and knew his cheeks were heating to a bright red. “Do you...That is, I’m…” he floundered, not sure if he should apologize or if Stiles liked it. 

Stiles took pity on him and pressed his uninjured hand against Derek’s face. “I liked it. I was just surprised. You can call me that if you want.” 

Derek pressed his face against the cool palm for a moment. He wasn’t usually a pet name kind of person, but that had just slipped out. He wasn’t sure often he would actually use that, but it was nice to know Stiles liked it if he did. “Okay.” He turned and pressed a quick kiss to Stiles’ palm. “Let’s get you dressed without further injury.” He reached for Stiles’ clothing and helped his mate get them on, easing the shorts up on the injured hand side and helping to tug a shirt on carefully. Once Stiles was dressed, he went after his own clothes, opting for just a pair of boxer briefs and shorts. He preferred as few clothes as possible generally speaking, and he had a feeling he was going to have half the pack piled on him. He’d roast if he wore too many layers. 

“Come on,” he said and offered Stiles his hand. He did it without thinking, and it wasn’t until Stiles’ hand was in his own and they were heading down the stairs that he realized that Stiles hadn’t hesitated either. That thought warmed him.

~*~

Stiles was still reeling from the hit his hand had taken and the rapid pain drain Derek had effected, the pet name, and the casual way that they’d fallen together again without seeming to need to work for it. It felt good. It felt _right_. It was just. Well, it was just a lot. And now--

“STILES!” 

Stiles let out a woosh of breath and staggered back a step as Scott hit him, wrapping arms around him like an extra strong octopus. Derek’s hold on his hand kept him from going back any farther, and he managed to catch his balance, carefully bringing up his injured arm to hold Scott. “Easy, Scotty,” he mumbled, pressing his face against Scott’s shoulder for just a moment. “I’m okay.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Scott mumbled on repeat into Stiles’ shoulder. “I was a dumbass and I shouldn’t have said that and then you broke your hand and I’m such a dumbass.” The grip he had on Stiles was just shy of bone crushing, and Stiles could _feel_ the remorse radiating off of his best friend. 

“Oh my god, now you’re being the dumbass. You didn’t do anything wrong. You did the right thing. I needed to be called on my shit.” Stiles kissed the side of Scott’s head. “I need to breathe, though, so if you could…” 

“Shit! Sorry!” And Scott leaped back almost as fast as he’d tackled Stiles in the first place. Stiles thought it was a good thing he was smart enough to move his arm out of the way first, or he’d have been hurting again. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m all right.” It helped that Derek was absolutely doing a low level pain drain through their still-linked hands. “Your mom tell you?” 

“Yeah. She may have yelled at me a little.” If Scott was reacting like this, Stiles suspected Melissa had done more than yell a little. He also suspected she’d done a little more than yell, but Scott had only heard the parts he wanted to hear. The dweeb. “Are you--oh.” Stiles raised an eyebrow until he realized that everyone was staring at them. And by everyone, he absolutely meant every single member of the pack--minus Peter--that could be there right now, was there right now. 

Erika and Boyd stood right behind Isaac, who was looking a little sheepish but also very relieved. Next to them were Lydia and Allison, Kira just behind them, beaming brightly. Jackson glowered behind them all, but Stiles could detect some kind of relief radiating off of him. Off of _all_ of them, he realized. Oops. 

“Uh...Hi?” he offered, carefully lifting his casted hand in the air. That had an unexpected effect of making the girls, minus Erika and plus Isaac, rush over to him, cooing over his arm. Before he knew it, he’d been disconnected from Derek and walked toward the family room, set down on the couch, and half the pack piled in around him. The other half was draping themselves around the floor at his feet, grabbing the pile of pillows that they had for that purpose, and arranging a nest. 

Before long, Stiles was snuggled in between Lydia and Scott, Allison on Scott’s other side, Jackson on Lydia’s. Isaac had a hand wrapped around his ankle, taking over Derek’s low level pain drain, while Erika, Boyd, and Kira flanked him. Derek had settled himself into a nearby chair, and was watching all of them with what appeared to be a fond look on his face. It was hard to tell, though. It didn’t look all that different from his normal face. Then Stiles realized that the fondness was coming from their bond, and he could feel the contentment and satisfaction pulsing at a low level thrum between them. Okay. He could do that. That was nice. 

“I’m okay, guys, I promise,” Stiles protested, recognizing that both Scott and Isaac were pain draining him. He was starting to feel a little dopey. “I don’t need it constantly.” 

“Sorry,” Scott said, but he didn’t take his hand away. Neither did Isaac, though they both stopped the “pain suck.” He was gonna call it their Dyson maneuver: sucking up all the pain in their vicinity. 

Yup, they’d made him drunk.

“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Allison said, peering around Scott at him. “And that…” She trailed off looking between him and Derek. “You’re _okay_?” She put an emphasis on the question, asking without asking if he and Derek were okay now. How the hell did they know? Seriously, it was kind of creepy. 

Derek gave him a small soft smile when Stiles looked over at him, looking for an answer. That, coupled with the contentment he could feel made him smile involuntarily himself. 

“Yeah, Allison. I think we’re going to be okay.”


End file.
